


Sleeping Beauty

by Traillbits



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Guardian Angel, M/M, Sleeptalking, Slow Burn, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:48:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21869308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traillbits/pseuds/Traillbits
Summary: During the century-long nap, Aziraphale used to visit Crowley and sometimes... he was unable to help himself
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28
Collections: Oh Come All Ye Sinful! A Depraved Holiday Exchange 2019





	Sleeping Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> As part of the 2019 "A Depraved Gift Exchange" here is my contribution for OKami_hu

1862

Aziraphale shook his head, hanging up his hat. 

Sinking down into his comfy plush chair, the angel was beside himself. Some new deliveries had come to his bookshop in need of cataloging. It was something he relished doing, but right now he slumped in his chair with no will in him to pick up a single book.

Fraternizing... Why did he pick that word?

And just why did the look in those eyes hit the angel like a mortal blow to the gut.

Those demonic, foul, loathsome eyes.

Eyes that glowered ember, such a simmering glow that any angel should rightfully despise. 

Those demonic... dear eyes that seemed to burn as sunset did, the sky itself catching fire. 

Demonic? Surely.

Foul? No, no that didn't sound right.

Loathsome? Absolutely not.

Perhaps calling he and Crowley's arrangement fraternizing was out of line. The dear boy was only scared. Though to tell the truth, Aziraphale didn't think demons could be scared. He'd never known any angel that was-mind you with the exception of himself from time to time after that strongly worded lecture from Michael. 

But the fear that melted to anger. But not just anger.

In those ember eyes, Aziraphale could see a twinge of hurt?

"I have other people to fraternize with, Angel"

Demons were known to lie. Crowley could have been lying.

Aziraphale sulked with a sigh. Perhaps he ought to apologize, after all angels were certainly not suppose to lie. And he was quite guilty, he had just lied to a dear friend.

Standing fully, Aziraphale straightened his bowtie and pulled down on his jacket sleeves. 

Time to find where the snake's hiding spot in the grass was. 

\--

It was no surprise that the darkly dressed demon was nowhere to be seen in St James the following day, or any day for another week. Aziraphale was concerned when he frequented the other spots Crowley was known to enjoy. The florist had not seen him, neither had the elderly brothers down at the winery nor the pubs the two had outed to on late chilly nights in London. 

It had been seventeen days after the pairs fight in St James park by the time Aziraphale had finally tracked Crowley down. 

It was quite eloquent and spacious. While it was in plain sight in central London, it had the outward appearance of a tiny cramped little flat. Inside however it was a spacious palace, no doubt the reality bending work of a little demonic miracle or two. 

A massive series of vines twined along the walls, green and vibrant with not one twig discolored or imperfect. That was to say nothing of all the luxurious plants and flowers in full glorious bloom, as though the angel found himself in Eden once again. 

Aziraphale's shoes clacked against the marble checkered halls ominously. So spacious yet so empty. 

The door to a single door was ajar, hesitantly Aziraphale knocked. He was already invading the demon's privacy, it would be atrociously rude to not knock!

"Hello?" Aziraphale called, "Crowley?"

No answer resounded from the door. He supposed already Aziraphale was imposing enough, and after the demon had requested holy water of all things, the ominous silence was concerning. 

Slowly nudging the door open, the angel peaked in and felt an exhale he'd been holding release itself-granted angels didn't need to breathe, but as Aziraphale said on the occasion that head office came knocking for a report, 'it's what humans do' on the subject of wanting to blend in.

The bedroom was an absolute jungle. Vines cascaded from the ceiling, and the leaves were luscious and brimming with life. And in the center of all this plant life was a large bed that's wine colored sheets contrasted against the green leaves. 

"Really now Crowley?" Aziraphale raised a brow, "You can't just worry me-not that I'm concerned for your well being you wily old demon! Here I thought you were in some sort of predicament but I find you lazing about in bed all day, really."

But the demon failed to respond. 

Aziraphale blinked, "Crowley?"

The angel edged further inside, stepping over a wild vine. 

"Crowley, dear boy are you alright?" The angel asked.

Fortunately, Crowley's chest rose up and down under the sheets. While demons, like angels didn't need oxygen, at least it was a good sign. But for whatever reason, despite Aziraphale's very audible presence, 

Crowley remained sound asleep.

"Hmm.." The angel mused on just what was going on. "I get the feeling you're not in any particular shape or mood to be disturb, are you?"

Aside from the slight exhale from the demon's breath, he was met with silence. 

Aziraphale sighed, "I feel like I'm in part a cause of this. Oh dear boy I was so insensitive. There are no other people for you to fraternize with, are there? I didn't mean to be so hostile with you..."  
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Aziraphale smiled.

"I'll set things right once you're awake." It was not what humans do per se, but rather what friends do.

\--

"Growing your hair out again I see," Aziraphale hummed placing his coat on the rack beside the black waistcoat. 

A few decades had passed like this. Not wanting to leave Crowley vulnerable and alone, the angel took to visiting the silent flat. Sometimes he would bring books over to read, others he'd brew a pot of tea from a very convenient kettle he miracled up. 

Other days like today he'd just talk to his quiet friend. 

Despite having not risen from the bed, the plant life was well cared for and only increased in length and growth over the years. The bedroom was an absolute rainforest by this point. 

Crowley's body was no exception, or at least his hair that is. What was originally clean cut and short in length, was now begin to cascade in tangled curls dangling from the bed.

"Personally, I rather like it." Aziraphale noted, "It was a pity you cut it during the siege of Rome. I don't know if... Well of course you must have known I was there on the ark. But I remember creeping down to that cold pen, that was surprisingly warm during the days you had hid those children. Oh and how they weaved braids into your hair!" 

The angel was smiling warmly at the memory, Crowley continued to sleep without a stir.

"You know, you're quite the frustrating being. If only you'd wake up so you could hear my discontent." Aziraphale frowned. "But perhaps if I hadn't been so cold with you. But you must understand! You only asked for holy water because you were scared. Well, so was I. Both you and I know what holy water would do to your body, worse than a mere discorporation and following paperwork."

Still the demon slept. 

Aziraphale sighed, "Very well then. A nice chat we've had, this occasion calls for a pot of tea."


End file.
